What Little We Know
by SwordofMercy
Summary: The short rambling of a pawn and her master (A gift to a friend). Rated T for language.


Okay, this is a gift for my friend who loves Dragon's Dogma and wanted to write a story about her character and her pawn. Though this story will have several chapters, they will not be nearly as wrong as i normally write them, and will concentrate on little snippets of events. Hope you enjoy.

Note: I do not own Dragon's Dogma or any rights of the products that may come from the franchise.

He was... disappointed. That much, she was certain about.

She may be a pawn, a denizen of the unchanging Rift, but she knew enough about human facial expressions to understand when one did not like what they saw. And in truth, she could not blame him as she gazed upon her new 'master'.

Tall, robust, and built like a mountain, the large man's very essence oozed with raw power; A body forged in battle and in labor under the blazing sun. He had a strong-jawed face, with high cheekbones, a stern nose, full lips, and emerald green eyes contrasted greatly with his dark skin. The scars upon his face spoke of distant battles of his youth, while his eyes told of one much more recent; One she could safely guess by the wound on his chest. He wore a tan tunic that strained against his chest with an armored belt adorning his waist, leather greaves, and a pair of fur boots that looked like they had trekked several times across Gransys. A large battle hammer, much larger than herself, remained ready upon his back. His large muscles tensed and flexed with every small motion, as he stared down at her.

He was... scowling? Yes, that was it: Scowling. And expression of displeasure if she remembered correctly.

A displeasure aimed toward her.

Once again, she could not find it in herself to blame him. Compared to him, this warrior, this man forged in flame... She was seemingly nothing.

She was not, even in the most vague of terms, a warrior. She was short, barely reaching her 'master's' shoulder, with a frail figure, though not sickly so, with no amount of muscle that could be used in battle. She was pale, almost as though she had never bathed in the sun, but had light freckles adorning her square-jawed, high cheek-boned face. Her eyes were large, though not strangely so, containing her silver irises that seemed to drain her body of whatever color it may have had left. She had gentle lips upon her youthful face that look as though they never smiled, and she had a small nose that made her look like a sprite. Her attire was something simple: A novice robe with a blue kilt, black stocking, white gloves, brown shoes, and a blue cape. The only thing that she could say was 'off' about her, was the eyepatch that covered her left eye; Though strangely she wan't blind, nor damaged in said eye. It simply felt... right there. A runed staff was at the ready upon her back.

In all honesty, she simply did not appear to be the pawn that the Arisen had desired.

A deathly silence filled the room.

"..."

"..."

"So," began the Arisen in a smooth, deep voice, "You are to be my pawn?"

She nodded before she answered in her own river-like voice, "That is correct Arisen. This pawn is called Phoenix."

"Phoenix eh?" asked the Arisen as she scratched his chin with a large hand. "What can you do?"

"Do?" answered the pawn back in confusion; Silver brow raising in an attempt to express herself further.

She hoped she got it right.

The Arisen sighed before replying, "Yes, do. What is it can do? What are you?"

"I am a pawn Arisen," answered the pawn plainfully.

Another deathly silence filled the tent as the Arisen glared at her.

What was she to do? She tried to give the Arisen the answer he wanted, yet he seemed to be frustrated. What had she done wrong?

It was then that the other pawn, Rook if she remembered correctly, stepped in. "What is your vocation?" he said in his familiar, hollow voice; Coaxing for her to think less literally.

Now that, Pheonix knew how to answer. "This pawn is of a sorcerer vocation," she said gently as she eyed her master wearily.

He truly was a large man.

She watched as the Arisen cast Rook a cold glare before turning his attention back to her. What was that feeling she felt within her chest?... Anxiety? Yes, that must have been it; The soft pulling of the string around her heart.

The Arisen eyed her up and down, stopping for a moment to look at her nearly-flat chest before clucking his tongue is disapproval and continuing to rake is eyes over her. Phoenix looked down at her chest as well. Was there something staining her robes? She could not tell. Perhaps he was displeased in her attire? She was about to ask him when he suddenly spoke once more. "Are you any good?" he asked. Phoenix opened her mouth to question what he meant, but was abruptly stopped when the Arisen quickly added, "I mean are you good at your vocation?"

"I do not know," was what she answered.

The Arisen sighed again, this time reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Another sign of frustration.

Summoning her courage the pawn continued to speak, "I know not how gifted I am in my class Arisen, as I am newly... born. I have yet to test my abilities upon the battlefield and beside you." She straightened her back as she continued on, "But I swear to you, that I will do everything in my power to ensure your victory upon the battlefield."

Their was silence. Not an awkward one, but silence nonetheless.

And then their was laughter; One of thunder that seemed to shake the tent. It was her master, the Arisen. A smiled stretched across his face as his body shook with a wonderful laugh.

Yes it was wonderful, yet also spiteful.

He was definitely not happy about the situation.

He regained his composure and gazed upon his pawn once again; The faint traces of mirth within his green eyes and he looked into hers.

The pawn cocked her head to the side, a sign of slight frustration upon her face, as she quietly said, "What is it that is so amusing?"

She wanted to laugh too.

The Arisen smirked again and one last chuckle escaped him. "You," he simply said as he crossed his arms across his chest.

Her?

What was so amusing about her? Was there something on her face? Were her clothes disheveled? Did she manage to use the wrong expression for something?

"I do not understand," she said once again as she shuffled in place.

Humans were so confusing.

The Arisen eyes hardened slightly as he motioned her entire body. "You expect me to believe that you can be of use in battle? This must be a jest," he said sternly. "You look as though you can hardly lift a sword, much less a dagger. What use are you to me if you cannot even fight?"

Phoenix flinch. This was not what she hoped for when she first laid her eyes upon this Arisen... Then again, what had she hoped for before in those few moments before her 'birth'. Perhaps, she wished for a noble knight who treated pawns as equals. Maybe a nimble thief who stole from the rich and gave it to the poor. maybe she had yearned to have a magic-user such as herself that would teach her the mysterious arcane magics that had been locked away for a millennium. But instead, she acquired... She didn't even know. She wanted to say he was rude, and yet that did not seem correct. He was just... harsh, like the winds of a hurricane.

... Where had that come from?

Phoenix shook her head as an unknown feeling came over her. But as quickly as it came, it was gone.

She didn't like it, and yet, she wanted it to come again.

It truly was strange.

Focusing on the Arisen once again, the pawn calmly replied, "I will do all I can to aid you in battle."

The Arisen groaned, like that of a bear, before he stated, "Of course," and turned toward the door. He cast a stern glance at her as he continued, "You are to do exactly as I saw, when I say it, lest I send you back to the the Rift. Am I clear."

His tone should have sounded menacing, she knew that. And yet it didn't. It was just... hollow, much like herself. What was he hiding behind that wall around his mind.

For some reason, one that Phoenix knew she might not be able to ever explain, she wished to know.

But that, she knew, simply had to wait until she was no longer needed.

So straitening her robes, as well as her back, the pawn simply replied, "Yes Master."

The two of them walked out of the tent not as equals, but as Master and Servant.


End file.
